carry you with me
by bravevulnerability
Summary: 'It's been months since Montgomery's funeral, since the gunshot, since the damning diagnosis after she awoke from surgery. ' An alternate ending to 'Knockout' that changes everything. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Based on a prompt from the castlefanficprompts page on tumblr:**

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><p><em>In Knockout, Beckett is shot not in the chest, but in the back. The bullet damages her spine and she's paralyzed.<em>

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><p>The loud thump from upstairs has him bolting from his office chair, taking the steps two at a time to reach the guest room at the end of the hall. It's almost three in the morning, but ever since her release from the hospital, he hasn't spent much time sleeping. He's too afraid, too terrified to sleep through something like this and leave her stranded without anyone but his resentful daughter to help her.<p>

"Kate," he breathes, the only warning he offers as he pushes open the bedroom door. His heart breaks, just like it always does, when he finds her on the ground next to the side of the bed.

"Fuck, Castle, go _away_," she cries, slamming her fist into the carpeted floor, trying and failing to push up onto her elbows.

He ignores her frustrated demand and comes for her crumpled body, scooping her up from the floor even as she curses him through the tears clogging her throat and pouring from her eyes. She beats a hand against his chest, the blow weak and halfhearted, before she collapses against him, buries her face in his neck.

She was trying to reach her wheelchair, trying to transfer her body from the bed to the chair she despises with every fiber of her being, and she didn't make it. It isn't the first time it's happened, probably won't be the last.

"You're supposed to call me for help," he growls, squeezing her thigh, even though she likely can't feel it. "We've talked about this, Kate. We've talked about it so many damn times-"

"I just wanted to brush my teeth," she sobs, pathetic and miserable. Heartbreaking. "But the stupid chair - too far - I hate this, I hate it so much."

"I know, love," he sighs, rocking her in his arms even though he knows the action he too often indulges tends to make her feel coddled. She curls her arms around him this time though, trying to muffle her broken sobs against his skin.

It's been months since Montgomery's funeral, since the gunshot, since the damning diagnosis after she awoke from surgery. She still hasn't regained feeling below the waist and at their last visit with her doctor, she was told she likely never would.

"Don't call me love," she chokes out. "Don't love me, Castle. Don't-"

"Stop it," he growls against her temple. He hates when she gets like this, the self-loathing born from her paralysis convincing her she doesn't deserve him, that he doesn't deserve to be 'stuck' with her. But he didn't move her into his home, didn't stick by her through every grueling day of physical therapy, didn't rearrange his life, his loft, around her and her disability out of obligation. "I love you," he states, the reason for all of it. "I'll always love you."

Her fingers snag in the collar of his t-shirt and he rests his cheek against hers.

"Can we go to bed?" she rasps, her voice still cracking with anguish, and he nods, grateful for the request as he turns back towards the open doorway. She had only stayed in the guest room tonight out of stubbornness anyway, trying to prove something to herself, trying to will herself into believing she could take care of herself without any help.

He doesn't know how to make her see that she doesn't have to do this alone.

Rick catches a glimpse of red hair in the darkness of the hallway when he emerges from the guest room, notices his daughter's piercing eyes watching them from her cracked door. He's thankful Kate's eyes are closed against his neck, that she doesn't see Alexis studying them from her bedroom. The woman in his arms feels guilty enough for the rift between him and his daughter that she believes is all her fault.

But for once, Alexis doesn't scold him with a look of disapproval, doesn't make a passive aggressive remark about the situation, or glare at Kate when her back is turned. For once, Alexis gives him a small, tentative smile, and he wonders what she heard to evoke that.

His daughter disappears back into her bedroom without making a sound and Kate exhales an unsteady breath against his neck.

"I hope she can forgive me one day," she whispers and yeah, she's definitely still a detective.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Kate," he murmurs. "But I think she's forgiven us both."

He braces her against his chest once they reach the stairs, making sure his grip on her is secure. He has a horrible fear of losing his balance when he's carrying her, of dropping her and causing her more pain. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he helped her attain yet another injury.

"Castle?"

"Hmm?"

"You know I love you," she breathes as they descend the stairs and he kisses her forehead once they reach the bottom.

"I know you do."

"I just want better for you."

He shakes his head.

He carries her through his office, stopping by his desk to close the lid of his laptop, and walks with her past the threshold of his bedroom. His arms are aching by the time he deposits her gently on the bed. He's built muscle in his upper body over the last three months and she's so light in his arms, too light, but his lack of sleep is catching up with him tonight.

"Kate," he starts as he crawls in beside her, helping her slide her legs beneath the sheets before drawing her up against his chest. "Stop trying to decide what's best for me."

She stays quiet at that, but slides her arm around his waist, slipping her hand beneath his shirt to splay across his lower back.

"There's nothing better than you," he says into her hair, tightening the arm around her shoulders when a quiet whimper escapes her throat. "I loved you when you could walk and I'll still love you if you never walk again. Will you ever believe that?"

Kate tilts her head upwards on the shared pillow, meeting his gaze with eyes that shimmer in the moonlit darkness of his bedroom. Castle smooths away one of the tears that escapes from the corner of her eye with his thumb and she spreads the fingers trapped between their chests to span over his heart with a sigh that trembles its way out of her throat.

"I'm - I'm getting there," she confesses. "I can get there, Castle. I will. Just - don't give up on me. Not yet."

"Not ever," he corrects, too quickly, too fierce, feeling his heartbeat picking up speed beneath her fingertips, but Kate only hugs him tighter with the arm still slung around his waist. "I'd never give up on you, Kate."

For the first time in a long time, he feels genuinely hopeful that they'll make it through this. Together.


	2. Chapter 2

Castle smiles down at his phone while he waits for the next person in line to approach the table, grinning at her teasing words illuminating the screen before Gina hisses at him to put the phone away before she _confiscates _it. He huffs and tucks the phone into the inside pocket of his jacket while he forces another smile for the young woman holding out her book for him to sign and gushing over how much of an honor it is to meet him.

He appreciates his fans, he really does, but he hadn't wanted to do the book signing today. He hadn't wanted to leave her alone, but his publicist and Gina had demanded his presence for the event that had been scheduled for months, and Kate had too, insisting that he shouldn't remained cooped up in the loft just because she has to be. But he's never minded the extended periods of time inside, not when he's with her.

Kate's been texting him throughout the last four hours, though, making inappropriate jokes that have him pursing his lips to keep from laughing aloud and asking about the signing every other hour. She had also spoken about a 'surprise' for him if he got through the rest of his book signing without incident.

It'd had him signing books and faking smiles with renewed vigor.

Yet another copy of Heat Rises slides onto the table and he uncaps his marker.

"And who should I make it out to?"

"Kate." His head snaps up, eyes immediately darting forward to see her level with him. "You can make it out to Kate."

The smile spreads wide and uncontained across his face, his first real smile since he left her at the loft this morning, and Castle drops the book and marker back to the table.

"Castle," she warns, but he stands from his seat, leaning across the table to cup her face in his hands and press a kiss to her lips.

"What are you doing here?" he breathes, the excitement sending his voice an octave higher, and she grins, opening her mouth to speak, when her eyes land on something behind him, the shy happiness slowly dissipating from her face.

Kate's hands fall from his forearms to curl around the wheels of her chair and she quickly ducks her head to escape his grasp. Castle follows her gaze, catching the disapproving glare both Gina and Paula are sending the two of them and suddenly taking notice of the silence that has fallen over the bookstore.

Whispers fill the air, murmurs that he can decipher only pieces of, but he hears the most biting of the words, sees the exact moment she does too.

_A woman in a wheelchair? Of all the women he could have? He's dating a cripple?_

Kate Beckett has never cared much about what people think of her, especially not the bands of women he's come to realize are more interested in scoring a night in his bed than reading his actual work, but when he looks back at her, he can see the tears she's trying to blink away.

"Kate-"

She shakes her head and clenches her fingers around the metal rims of the wheelchair, using her practiced grip to push herself out of the line and towards the exit, keeping her eyes on the ground as the stares of practically every person in the entire store descend upon her.

He's out of his seat before she can make it to the door.

"Richard Castle, sit down," Paula growls, digging her fake nails into his bicep, but he brushes her off, ignores the threats she spews after him as he follows the same path Kate took through the store to escape outside.

She's still on the sidewalk when he reaches her, waiting to cross the street, but his hands curling around the top handles of the wheelchair halt her progress.

"Go back inside," she sighs, her knuckles turning white around the rims of the chair, but her eyes remain downcast, narrowed in on her knees.

"Like hell," he scoffs quietly, glancing both ways before gliding across the street with her.

"Castle," she growls, and he knows it's because she hates when he pushes her.

She lost so much of her independence when the bullet severed her spine nearly four months ago; using her own arms to guide herself while in the chair is one of the only acts of self-reliance she has left and he usually doesn't interfere with that. But today's circumstances call for just a little manhandling on his end.

"I'm not going back in there," he declares like a stubborn child, but the anger is bubbling in his chest like fire, simmering, and one look at the people who made her deflate with their criticisms is all it will take for him to explode. They don't _want _him to go back in there.

Kate isn't angry, she stopped feeling angry about the condescending looks people gave her months ago, but he hasn't.

"I shouldn't have come," she murmurs while he steers her into a nearby park, guiding her towards an empty swing set.

"I'm glad you came. You made it way more interesting," he points out and she rewards him with a soft huff of laughter.

Kate surprises him with her lack of protest as he parks her wheelchair next to the swings and proceeds to scoop her out of the high quality medical equipment. He had spent days online, scouring the web for the absolute best manual wheelchair he could find, comparing every contender, reading hundreds upon hundreds of reviews, until he finally made his choice. She had been outraged when it had arrived at the loft. He had allowed her to help him unbox it and of course she had seen the order form. She hated when he spent obscene amounts of money on her, but she deserved the best.

He can't help her walk again, but he could buy her the finest quality wheelchair the world had to offer.

Castle places her on the swing closest to the chair, ensuring she has her grip on the chains before releasing her and plopping down on the swing next to hers.

Kate tilts her head back, the cool autumn breeze swirling past her, sweeping through her hair while she soaks in the rays of sunlight.

"I miss being outside," she admits, swaying softly on the swing, her upper body strength keeping her from losing her balance.

"We can go for more walks," he suggests, even though he knows their last attempt at a stroll was kind of a disaster and her grimace confirms it.

"I like the swings," she murmurs, staring down at her useless legs. "It almost feels like - like I'm normal. Just sitting here with you like this."

"We can explore every park and sit on every swing set in the city then."

She cuts her eyes towards him in a sideways glance, her lips quirking upwards, but he's dead serious. He would journey with her through each and every park, test out every single swing set in Manhattan with her if it gave her the same carefree expression she wears right now.

"You still had a line out the door," she murmurs, guilt dancing like growing flames in her eyes, eradicating the brief glimpse of reprieve.

"I'll tell Paula to get all of their names and I'll mail them autographed copies of the book," he says without concern, resisting the urge to dig his heels into the plundered grass at their feet and put the swing to good use. She can't swing, can't soar through the air, so he doesn't want to either despite the fact that she would likely scold him if she knew he was thinking this way. "And this could be a good thing, you know? Paula's always complaining that I'm not gaining enough publicity, that it's been too long since I've been seen with a woman," he winks, but receives yet another heart-sinking grimace in return.

"I don't think this is the kind of publicity she meant," Kate mutters, a bitter edge to her next words. "No one wants to read about Richard Castle's crippled girlfriend."

The chains rattle when he stands.

"You think I care about that?"

"Rick-"

"Would you be ashamed of me if the roles were reversed?" he questions, coming to stand in front of her, pressing his balled fists to his sides.

"Castle," she gapes, a horrified look in her eyes as she stares up at him.

"Then stop acting like I'm ashamed of you. I'm _proud _of you and it felt amazing to kiss you in front of all of those people, Kate, because you are the most…" He has to pause, has take a moment to search for the words that could at least come close to capturing the essence of her, of what she is to him. "Remarkable, maddening, challenging, frustrating person I have ever met, and I am in love with you. And I'm proud of it," he declares, with more confidence than he thinks he's ever felt. "Proud to love you."

The tears she held back inside the bookstore cascade down the concaves of her cheeks and she reaches out for him, nearly goes crashing towards the dirt.

"Pick me up," she rasps even though he's already gripping her sides to keep her steady on the seat of the swing. "Pick me up right now."

Grudgingly, Castle hauls her up to her feet, keeping an arm secure around her waist as hers wrap fierce and tight around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair.

"I don't know how to do this sometimes," she confesses on a whisper against his cheek. "To be… this way when I want to be so much more."

The hand between her shoulder blades presses a little harder against the framework of bones, fingers clutching at the leather of her jacket, and she dusts her lips to the corner of his eye.

"But then you make me feel like I'm enough."

Shit, she's going to make him cry.

"And I know I get frustrated and I don't always make it easy for you, but you just - you keep loving me, Castle. You don't stop."

Of course not," he breathes out, pressing his lips to the shell of her ear. "Never stop loving you, Kate."

They stay standing that way for a while, her chin in digging into the juncture between his neck and his shoulder, the combined effort of their arms the only thing keeping her upright.

"Can we stay here a little longer?" she murmurs and he nods, easing her back down to the swing once he's certain the mist in his eyes has cleared.

"You were right," he states, walking around to stand behind her, his thighs a wall at her back that she relaxes into with an appreciative sigh. "My surprise was so worth all the books I had to sign."

She chuckles, dropping her head back against his sternum.

"I had just wanted to surprise you though, not crash your entire signing."

"You didn't crash it. I did," he shrugs, covering her hands on the chains of the swing. "You just came in to get your book signed. And to make me smile."

"I should have known you'd make a scene."

"I did _not _make a scene, I was just… greeting you."

"Better not be greeting any other fans like that, Richard Castle."

The laugh bursts past his lips and she grins up at him, wiggling her fingers beneath his, and he bends forward, pecks a kiss to her forehead.

"No, you're the only one with those VIP privileges," he assures her while carefully draws her and the swing backwards, just slightly.

"Don't send me toppling," she warns, but she doesn't fall when he lets her go, only glides forward a few inches before gravity sends her swaying back to him.

Her abdominal muscles are impressive, the months of physical therapy putting her upper body in amazing shape, and combined with her secure grip on the chains, the curved seat of the swing holding her bottom in place, they learn she can sway back and forth without needing the stability her legs would normally offer. Her feet keep her from moving too quickly, the toes of her boots dragging through the dust with every gentle push he gives her, but she still laughs quietly as she drifts forward, the beauty of the sound making his smile grow.

She used to be unable to get out of bed some days, for reasons both physical and mental alike, and now she's in the park with him, on the swings, joy shining in her eyes like sunlight every time she looks up at him.

To say he is proud of her feels like an understatement.


	3. Chapter 3

Castle finds her on their spot atop the roof when he goes looking for her, her favorite afghan around her shoulders, her hair blowing in the chilly night air.

When he had woken without her in the bed, instinctual panic had curled in his gut, but her chair was gone too and he had already known exactly where to search for her.

"You could leave a note sometimes, you know," he murmurs, crossing the roof in just a few long strides to join her near the edge of the building.

Kate glances up to him with an apology in her eyes once he reaches her side and steals his hand, brings his knuckles to her lips as he threads their fingers.

"Sorry, babe," she sighs, propping their twined hands on the arm of her wheelchair. "I got restless."

"I could have helped with that."

She shoots him a sly glance from beneath her lashes, a smirk flirting along her lips, but he only raises his brow, because they've become quite skilled in working around her disability in bed and she's never shy about asking him for what she wants.

"Maybe when we go back in," she hums, low and throaty, enough to make a slow spread of arousal flare in his gut, but her gaze drifts back towards the sea of city lights, the luminescence of a Manhattan night shining in her eyes.

It's the reason she comes out here so much, something about the blanket of bright lights giving her a sense of tranquility, making her feel safe. At least, that was what she had told him the first time he had found her up here alone in the middle of the night.

He didn't mind her seeking solitude without him at her side, happy to grant her the time to herself, but it sent a pleasant thrill of delight through his veins when she allowed him to experience the serene atmosphere with her.

"Want me to turn the lights on?"

Kate grins up at him, all the answer he needs, and Castle goes for the panel he'd had installed near the door, pressing the second of the three buttons and watching the sparkle of twinkling lights illuminating the expanse of the roof.

_Magical _is what she had called it the first time he had brought her up here, hoping to surprise her with the setup after realizing her yearning for more time outside. It was too much of a hassle for her to make it out of the loft on her own some days; the elevator, the lobby, the busy sidewalks tending to wear on her patience. The roof is only a brief elevator ride up and a simple push of a door that he'd had replaced so she could open the barrier without struggle.

They had dates up here every few nights, sharing dinners, watching movies on her laptop, dancing – if she felt up to it. She didn't like when he had to do the work for her, but every once in a while she would allow him to prop her feet atop his and do his best to hold her steady while they swayed along to the music he always kept handy on his phone. It didn't always work, sometimes the dead weight of her legs caused her lower half to stumble into him, sometimes she would start to cry, but he would find a way to fix it, to make her laugh.

Sometimes he would bring her up here without the chair and they would just lie atop a plethora of blankets, sharing secrets and making out under the hazy city sky. She always told him that he was a sap whenever they did that, a hopeless romantic for still trying to woo her even though he already has her, but she still gave him smiles that were more radiant than the view.

"What're you daydreaming about?" she asks and he shrugs, taking a seat on the ledge of the building in front of her.

"You," he replies, just to elicit the affectionate roll of her eyes. "And maybe DC."

The fatigue flickers across her face, the shadows of doubt and indecision, and he steals one of her hands from her lap, toys with the fourth finger of her left hand.

He's been waiting for so long to ask her, the ring burning a hole in his pocket every day, and he had been so prepared last week, but then the job offer had come along and he'd closeted his question for another time. He didn't want her facing too many decisions all at once and he could wait, he just hoped he didn't have to wait much longer.

"I don't know what to do," she whispers, tilting her head back against the top of the chair and staring up at the sky.

She would be working more if she accepted the job in Washington DC. She would be chained to a desk, just as she tends to be at the Twelfth, but she would be handling high profile cases, she would be making an even greater difference, and he knows she would excel at the new career, knows that she would climb the ranks with her mere intelligence and intuition, no use of her legs required.

He also knows she's afraid, hesitant to leave her life and everyone she loves behind.

"What do you want?" he asks simply, encasing her hand in both of his, smoothing his thumbs over the knuckles out of habit.

Kate gnaws on her bottom lip, tearing at the long abused flesh, and sighs, failing to come up with a response for him.

"I can write from anywhere," he reminds her.

"It wouldn't be the same," she mumbles, flipping her hand in his palms, twisting her thumb around one of his fingers.

"We've dealt with change before," he tries, but it doesn't ease the tension in her shoulders. "Do you think you would be happier?"

"I don't know. I'm happy now," she murmurs, withdrawing her hand from his to scrape her fingers through her hair. "We're happy now. All of us."

"We could just give it a try. If you don't like it, we could just come back. Alexis will keep up with the loft, Mother too, and I'm sure Gates would keep your job for you at the precinct, and-"

"Castle, your life is here too," she reminds him. "I don't want to force you to uproot everything just because you have to take care of me."

"You're my life." It comes out a little gracelessly and he can feel his cheeks burn with a touch of heat at the spark in her eyes as she levels him with a look he doesn't meet. "I wouldn't follow you to DC because I had to. Everything I do with you, Kate, it's because I want to do it."

Her fingers slide onto his neck, climbing up to cradle his cheeks in her palms, and he leans forward to meet her cool touch so she doesn't have to extend too far from the chair.

"Rick, there's something else I want you to ask me about."

His eyes flash upwards. The stress of deciding on DC disintegrating from the lines of her features, replaced with something soft, hopeful and longing. And it can't be… she doesn't even _know _about his plans to propose to her, does she?

"You - what do you mean?"

"When you took me to our swings last week, I ruined it with the news about DC. I saw - I didn't notice the box in your pocket until after we got home," she confesses, sweeping her thumbs over the slackened hinges of his jaw. "So ask me now, Castle."

His heart quickens in his chest, thudding with enough intensity to make him dizzy when he attempts to stand, and he fumbles for a second before her hands fall from his face to curl at his wrists, giving the bones a calming squeeze.

"Really?" he whispers and she grins, nodding as she tugs him in to smear a kiss to his parted lips. "Okay, okay just - stay here."

"Not much of a choice," she mumbles wryly and he's managed to pull himself together enough to shoot her a glare for that, but she's laughing and shoving him towards the roof entrance once he's finally standing and - wow, they're actually doing this.

Rick stumbles through the short hallway that leads to the elevator, nearly trips over his own feet while he's trying to withdraw his keys from the pocket of his robe. Is he really about to propose to her in the middle of the night on a rooftop in his pajamas?

Castle sprints through the loft, into his office, and finds the ring safe in his hiding place of his desk drawer. He clutches the box in his hand, barely feeling the sharp corners of the jewelry box cutting into his palm as he races back to her, as if she really will somehow disappear on him.

But no, Kate's still waiting for him on the roof, exactly where he left her, although, she's turned herself away from the view of the city to face the door he comes barreling though. Beckett curls her fingers around the metal rims of the wheelchair and propels herself forward to meet him midway, watching him with lips that are pursed tightly to contain her laughter as he rushes to meet her, a smile on his face that causes his cheeks to ache while he drops down to one knee in front of her.

"Katherine Houghton Beckett," he exhales, carefully extracting the ring from the velvet interior of the box and holding it between them, unable to recall all of those perfect words he had rehearsed for her last time, unable to look past the vibrant light in her eyes as she waits for him with excitement radiating from her in waves. The words that push past his lips are not the ones he'd had memorized, but he thinks they might be better. She's always liked it better when he speaks from his heart rather than a page. "I can't imagine my life without you and no matter where we go, whatever you decide, I'll always be with you," he promises. "You're extraordinary and I'm just - I'm so in love with you, Kate."

She chokes on something between a laugh and a cry and quickly lifts her hands, swiping at the moisture that has yet to fall from her eyes.

"C'mon Castle, get to the best part," she chokes out and he leans in closer, his chest pressing up against her knees.

"Will you marry me?"

He had already known the answer, but the oxygen still evacuates his lungs and his heart still pounds with a beat strong enough to make him feel lightheaded all over again when she says _yes_ and beams as he slips the ring onto her finger.

And then she's jerking him up by the collar of his t-shirt, slanting her lips over his and lacing her arms around his neck as he kisses her hard enough to have her wheelchair rolling backwards.

"I think I'm ready to go back inside," she mumbles, nipping at his bottom lip with a smile that causes their teeth to clash.

Castle releases her with a fair amount of trouble, but eventually allows her to push past him, catching the door for her so she can drive herself into the elevator. In their bed, she pulls herself to rest atop him, maneuvering her legs to lie twined between his, and he holds her close while she whispers words of love into his skin, words about the future, their future together, and he can't remember the last time he heard her speak with such hope and happiness.

He had almost lost her to a bullet two years ago and now she was going to be his wife.


	4. Chapter 4

"Don't cry, Kate. Please don't cry." Castle freezes outside the bedroom door, his heart seizing at his daughter's panicked words. Alexis isn't good at consoling Beckett, his daughter not used to seeing the older woman show any signs of vulnerability, even after the gunshot wound. He's about to step inside and take over, but then Alexis takes another shot at it. "Do you want me to get Dad? I can go get him-"

"No," Kate rasps and he can hear the harsh breath of grief rattling past her lips. "It's not - I'll be okay, Alexis. I'm sorry."

"Please don't be sorry. I'm the one who's - I'm sorry. I'm really sorry for how I treated you before."

"That was years ago," Kate's watery voice replies, softer now, a hint of comfort in the words, and he's relieved by the response. His daughter and Kate had been getting along so much better over the last couple of years, so much better than when she first came to live with them after the shooting, back when Alexis had placed the blame on Beckett for everything and made sure Kate was aware of it too. He would be devastated to learn that their progress had come to any sort of halt.

"But I still feel guilty," Alexis confesses, her words coming out shaky. "I never even apologized for it-"

"Alexis, I understood. I still understand," Kate consoles. "I made your life harder, your dad's life harder. You had every right to be angry."

"No, I didn't," Alexis protests and he's glad for that too, glad his daughter can recognize what was once foul behavior. "But regardless of how I acted back then, you're family, Kate. So please tell me what I can do to help."

"I wanted-" Her voice cracks and he's not going to be able to stand outside much longer, traditions be damned. "I wanted to walk down the aisle for him."

She starts to cry again and he pushes inside the spare bedroom, the sight of Alexis's arms around his fiancé causing his heart to clench. Alexis meets his eyes over Kate's head, her own bright with concern and empathy, and he nods to her before replacing her seat beside Kate on the bed.

"Thank you, Alexis," he murmurs while his daughter heads for the door and she spares one last worried look to the woman huddled against his chest before offering him a tentative smile.

"I'll stall," she assures him and he mouths another 'thank you' as she slips out the door.

"You look beautiful," he whispers against the soft tendrils of Kate's hair once they're alone and she huffs, curling her fingers into the front of his tux.

"What were you doing wandering the halls, Castle?" she mutters, wiping away a renegade tear rushing down her cheek. "You're supposed to be outside."

"I slipped away when Lanie wasn't looking," he grins, pressing a smile to the vein protruding from her forehead until he feels her eyes roll, lashes brushing against his chin.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she says suddenly, pulling back from the cove of his chest to search his face.

"Kate, are you having second doubts about me or you?"

"I could never have second doubts about you," she mumbles, giving him her answer without even having to say it, and he sighs.

They've made so much progress since her shooting, both physically and in their relationship. She still can't walk, still can't feel anything beneath the cage of her ribs, but they've made it work.

Her job at the precinct had made her miserable those first few months after she had returned, the confinement to her desk while the boys rode off to a crime scene without her always causing a flare of longing and torment to flash in her eyes, but she was still one of the best detectives in the NYPD, even after her brief stint in DC. Her team still had the highest closure rate of the entire precinct and that hadn't changed just because she couldn't chase down suspects.

She had remained in his loft even after her initial recovery, relocating to his bedroom for a permanent stay, and he's never been happier. It's still agony to see her on her worst days, when her disability gets the best of her and has tears springing to her eyes, but those days come less often now. Their life is good, better than either of them had expected he thinks. No aspect of their relationship has been compromised because of her paralysis, not even – to his pleasant surprise – their activities in his bed. He really couldn't ask more of her, but that doesn't stop Kate from demanding more from herself.

She let him love her, let him love her through every hardship they've encountered in the last three years, let him show her they would be happy no matter what state her body was in. He thought he had proven that to her a long time ago.

It was their wedding day after all, it's supposed to be one of the happiest days of her life, yet she's drowning in tears of sorrow and anguish.

Castle is mindful of her dress, her mother's beautiful dress, when he slides an arm beneath her knees and scoops her into his lap.

"Katherine Houghton Beckett," he scolds quietly, his lips brushing her hair. "I love you. I will always love you. I loved you when you could walk-"

"Rick," she moans, burying her face against his neck as he recites words he's said to her like a mantra countless times in the last three years.

"And I'll still love you if you never walk again."

They're still no less true.

"So, are we getting married or-"

She lifts her head to smudge her lips against his, mouth curling upwards and he kisses her back in relief, in gratitude, because she's just so strong, so stunning, and it took them awhile to get here, but she's finally going to be his wife.

"Go get my dad for me?" she murmurs, stroking her fingers over his cheek before allowing him to lift from the bed and deposit her back onto the mattress.

He checks to make sure her wheelchair is in reach and then heads for the door.

"See you at the altar," she calls after him, a teasing press of her tongue to the barrier of her teeth when he glances back to her, and that's the woman he loves, the woman who emerged like a phoenix from ashes when he thought she'd never rise again.

* * *

><p>He's standing with his mother and daughter, waiting anxiously for Kate as the sunset paints the sky a riot of pinks, purples, and blazing orange. It's only their immediate family – her father, his mother and daughter, the boys and Lanie – gathered in the backyard of his Hamptons home. They spent a portion of the summer here during her initial recovery and he still remembers how she had flourished, soaking up the sunlight, gliding through the pool, such joy in her eyes at the thrill of being able to move, to be free.<p>

There's no place else he would rather marry her.

The gasps from their small party of guests are what alert him to her presence across the lawn littered with white rose petals. And he immediately sees why. His breath catches at the sight of her, standing, her father at her side, holding her bouquet for her while she tightens her hands around the crutches keeping her upright.

She's walking, walking down the aisle.

By the time she reaches him, his eyes are misty with tears, his pride and love for her pushing his heart towards combustion.

Jim Beckett takes the crutches for her while Rick wraps his arms around her waist to support the lack of lower body strength, smoothing his hands over the back brace encasing her waist, and she grips at his biceps, breathing a little heavy, but with a brilliant smile on her face.

"Hi," she whispers and he tightens the arms secured around her middle.

"Hi, since when do you use crutches?" he grins.

"I've been practicing," she beams, so proud of herself for the first time in years. "I couldn't walk down the aisle, but I came close. Still made it to you."

"You did," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her when the preacher's throat clears in front of them.

Kate laughs, he blushes, and they exchange the vows they wrote together. Within minutes, she's his wife.

* * *

><p>Kate is forced to return to her chair for the majority of the evening celebrations, but for their first dance, he lifts her up again, balancing her feet atop his, cradling her body against his, the back brace easing the usual strain that comes with holding her up for extended periods of time.<p>

"Thank you," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to his ear. "For getting us here."

Rick turns his head, nudging his nose against her cheek until he can gain access to her lips.

"It was a mutual effort, Mrs. Castle."


End file.
